Page 123 of Grumpy on the Mountain
Except there's nothing quaint about my boss, Jamie Striker.
He's pure masculine competence, with rugged shoulders that could carry the world. Not to mention that gravelly voice that makes me forget why workplace relationships are a bad idea altogether.
The man is annoyingly brilliant. And stupidly attractive. But he’s completely off-limits because I'm only here temporarily.
I came to these mountains to heal and move on with my life, not to seduce the grumpy ex-military soldier.
So why does every touch of his battle-hardened hands make me forget why temporary was ever part of the plan?
Wrecked on the Mountain is Book Two in the Stone River Mountain Series—a spicy small-town romantic comedy series filled with grumpy ex-military heroes, brilliant heroines, light-hearted/low-angst emotional chaos, and more sexual tension than a medical tent during a snowstorm.
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Wrecked on the Mountain
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Chapter 1 – Brooke
I hate that I love this place so much.
Seriously. The rental cabin I get to call home for the next three months is absolutely… utterly…perfect.
Fucking perfect.
It's like someone took every cozy mountain fantasy I've ever had and turned it into real life. Enormous windows that frame a view that belongs on a postcard, looking out over endless rolling mountains that disappear beneath morning mist.
There are lines upon lines of pine trees that look like they're posing for a nature documentary, and a sky so blue it almost hurts to look at.
Yep. Apparently this is my life now.
The brilliant Chicago trauma surgeon hiding out in a mountain paradise because she couldn't handle it anymore.
At least, with the help of a YouTube tutorial or two, the stone fireplace is crackling with a warm fire I actually managed to start myself. And there are throw blankets everywhere.
Seriously, there are dozens of them.
Soft, chunky knit ones draped over the leather couch, a cashmere one folded on the reading chair, even a ridiculous faux fur situation on the window seat that makes me feel like I'm living in a luxury ski lodge commercial.
My coffee sits cooling on the reclaimed wood coffee table, steam rising in perfect little spirals. Thank God, the fancy espresso machine came with the rental, because I definitely couldn't operate anything requiring more skill than pushing a button right now.
Which is exactly when my phone starts buzzing with Piper's contact photo lighting up the screen. My best friend's grinning face, complete with scrubs and the "I just saved three lives before lunch" expression she perfected during our residency together.
"Please tell me you're not calling with hospital gossip," I answer, settling deeper into the window seat cushions, looking out at the endless forest stretching toward snow-dusted peaks, morning mist still clinging to the valleys between. "Because I'm supposed to be detoxing from all things medical for the next—"
"Three months, I know," Piper interrupts with that no-nonsense voice that made her the best charge nurse in our trauma unit. "But I'm not calling about work. I'm calling because it's been exactly eighteen hours since you texted me, and knowing you, you're probably spiraling in some gorgeous mountain paradise wondering if you made a huge mistake."
She's not wrong.
Last night I spent hours staring at the ceiling, replaying that final trauma call, the little boy's face, the flatline that—
No.
I promised myself I wouldn't go there again. Not today. Not in this beautiful place that's supposed to be my sanctuary from those memories.
"I'm not spiraling," I lie, pulling the adorably cute cashmere throw over my legs. "I'm... adjusting. To the quiet. Did you know mountains areloudwith how quiet they are?"
